On January 21, 1793, Louis XVI has been executed; 334 voters out of 384 total voters have voted for the execution of the monarch. I felt a terror as the nobility that kept my family wealthy until now will be against my favor.
The Jacobins are going radical. Jean-Paul Marat, the editor of L'Ami du Peuple, is calling for the death of king's supporters. The extreme emotional appeal that he is trying to make has well worked, and he has earnt fame, but I personally don't think calling for death of people looks good especially on a newspaper.
Recalling how the king of France has been tried for a treason makes me angry. The National Convention, now being led by the Jacobins, treated the king as a normal citizen and further a prisoner. I believe the reason the National Convention has tried the king for specifically a treason is to prove that the king does not equal the nation anymore. What an amazing change compared to Louis XIV's era when he said "I am the state!"
Many of other nobles have already fled the country to escape the mad panic that Maximilien Robespierre, head of the Jacobin club, has bought to France. People call them emigres. I regret now for not following them out of France. Being a smaller noble made me feel less threatened, and tidying up my life in Paris was not an easy thing to do. However, what I have feared became true before my eyes.
This execution drove the third estate crazy, because the some people from Neuilly Sur Seine has assaulted my house with belief that the cause of their high tax rate is me. This seems like a truth, because I decided to raise their taxes, but the people aren't understanding that I've also had the exterior pressure to decide so. The cause of their economic trouble is the French economic crisis, not my cruelty.
I was so stunned that terror didn't find me for a few minutes. I just tried to understand what was going on until I realized not only myself, but my family was in danger. Then the horror has swept me. My mercenary army composed only of 12 men that is just enough to protect my family personally has already armed themselves with guns to block the people outside as I saw through the window. I grabbed my sword (although I've never used it to kill) just in case.
Louis-Francois Cartier, the apprentice for a watch shop in Neuilly Sur Seine, broke the gate open. He is exceptionally buff for his age. As he opened the door, the people of Neuilly Sur Seine, some recognizable some not, flooded in.
"Fourty? Fifty?" I tried to count, and plan an escape route. Louis-Francois Cartier pointed at me shouting, "there he is!" The tension grew stronger than ever between the people, my (tiny) army, and me. Then my wife cried out.
"Pierre! Help!" Her cried as she has never been more desperate. I realized why in a second. My little boy was there.
The people already started having physical conflicts. My men, who are not supposed to use the gun until my, or my family member's, life is threatened, kept pushing people outward, but they started to get beaten soon.
Then five people managed to get them around toward my wife and my son.
"Leave my boy alone!" I roared as I ran toward the cite. The army's leader fired a warning shot to stop the citizens of Neuilly Sur Seine, but they were out of control. I grabbed my wife on my left hand, my son on my right, then started running for the back door. Then my son tripped, and I turned around to find an astonishing scene that I will never forget for the rest of my life.
I finally could return to my house after hiding in my friend's house for a week. My house was utterly destroyed. Pieces of furniture were dissembled, and many of the papers about ruling over Neuilly sur Seine were burnt.
The Jacobins are going radical. Jean-Paul Marat, the editor of L'Ami du Peuple, is calling for the death of king's supporters. The extreme emotional appeal that he is trying to make has well worked, and he has earnt fame, but I personally don't think calling for death of people looks good especially on a newspaper.
Recalling how the king of France has been tried for a treason makes me angry. The National Convention, now being led by the Jacobins, treated the king as a normal citizen and further a prisoner. I believe the reason the National Convention has tried the king for specifically a treason is to prove that the king does not equal the nation anymore. What an amazing change compared to Louis XIV's era when he said "I am the state!"
Many of other nobles have already fled the country to escape the mad panic that Maximilien Robespierre, head of the Jacobin club, has bought to France. People call them emigres. I regret now for not following them out of France. Being a smaller noble made me feel less threatened, and tidying up my life in Paris was not an easy thing to do. However, what I have feared became true before my eyes.
This execution drove the third estate crazy, because the some people from Neuilly Sur Seine has assaulted my house with belief that the cause of their high tax rate is me. This seems like a truth, because I decided to raise their taxes, but the people aren't understanding that I've also had the exterior pressure to decide so. The cause of their economic trouble is the French economic crisis, not my cruelty.
I was so stunned that terror didn't find me for a few minutes. I just tried to understand what was going on until I realized not only myself, but my family was in danger. Then the horror has swept me. My mercenary army composed only of 12 men that is just enough to protect my family personally has already armed themselves with guns to block the people outside as I saw through the window. I grabbed my sword (although I've never used it to kill) just in case.
Louis-Francois Cartier, the apprentice for a watch shop in Neuilly Sur Seine, broke the gate open. He is exceptionally buff for his age. As he opened the door, the people of Neuilly Sur Seine, some recognizable some not, flooded in.
"Fourty? Fifty?" I tried to count, and plan an escape route. Louis-Francois Cartier pointed at me shouting, "there he is!" The tension grew stronger than ever between the people, my (tiny) army, and me. Then my wife cried out.
"Pierre! Help!" Her cried as she has never been more desperate. I realized why in a second. My little boy was there.
The people already started having physical conflicts. My men, who are not supposed to use the gun until my, or my family member's, life is threatened, kept pushing people outward, but they started to get beaten soon.
Then five people managed to get them around toward my wife and my son.
"Leave my boy alone!" I roared as I ran toward the cite. The army's leader fired a warning shot to stop the citizens of Neuilly Sur Seine, but they were out of control. I grabbed my wife on my left hand, my son on my right, then started running for the back door. Then my son tripped, and I turned around to find an astonishing scene that I will never forget for the rest of my life.
Reme Gusteau stabed my son's leg.
I finally could return to my house after hiding in my friend's house for a week. My house was utterly destroyed. Pieces of furniture were dissembled, and many of the papers about ruling over Neuilly sur Seine were burnt.